The Culling (Book 1): Splinter Skill

by Bell, A. C.

  I continued to stare at the needle, sadness growing in my chest. And as much as it horrified me to even be considering it, I actually debated letting him try. What if he could make it work? I would never have to go through anything like this ever again. But a stronger part of me fought back against this idea. I wouldn’t let someone change who I was just because he couldn’t accept me. And more importantly, I didn’t want to lose that part of myself. My eyes stung with the threat of tears as fear welled up in me. I blinked them away and met his gaze.

  “Please, don’t do this.” I whispered.

  He actually faltered. His lips flicked down in sorrow, his eyes replete with remorse and even compassion. He glanced down at the floor to recompose himself, then stood and brandished the rag. I tried to resist when he fitted it between my teeth, but I could only do so much in my weakened state. There was some sort of dense waxy rod or something in the middle. It was to keep me from biting my tongue, I realized. This would hurt. My heart began to race when he tied a rubber strip around my arm to make the veins bulge. It sped up even more when he slid the needle in.

  “Dose one of ten. It will hurt less if you don’t fight it.”

  Regardless of the mental preparation I tried to make, I wasn’t ready. He may as well have injected pure alcohol into my bloodstream. It was as if the elixir were attacking my very essence. In a way, I suppose it was. I bit down hard on the tongue guard and the gag muffled my scream. I didn’t know how long it lasted, but Ian stared at his watch the entire time. Was he concerned about time or could he just not bear to look at me?

  When it finally ended, I heard Ian’s watch beep as he stopped the timer. “21.34 seconds. That was pretty quick.” he said. “Quick” or not, I did not want to go through nine more rounds of that. He only gave me a short rest before starting the next round. “This one will last longer, but hurt a little less,” he said as he slipped the needle in and pressed the plunger.

  My raw nerves disagreed.

  ***

  “I don’t understand, it shouldn’t still be lasting this long.”

  Ian tossed the syringe of round six on the desk and raked his fingers frustratedly through his light brown hair. I slumped against the chair in exhaustion and fought a sob, but that didn’t stop a fresh pair of tears from rolling down my cheeks and absorbing into the gag.

  “Maybe I need to adjust the formula a little more.”

  He started jotting down calculations of some sort on a notepad. The only sounds in the room was the sound of his pencil scratching paper, the crackling of the fire, and my ragged breathing. The quiet was shattered when Ian’s phone started ringing in his pocket. Ian slammed his pencil down and pulled the device out.

  “What?”

  “Get out here. We’ve got company,” I faintly heard Gabriel demand.

  Ian peered out the window to the driveway. Had someone found me? I tried not to look hopeful, but I probably failed.

  “Well, take care of it.”

  “I’ll handle the mutt, but the other one is your problem. I’m not dying so you can have some twisted date,” Gabriel spat.

  He must have hung up then because Ian drew the phone away to glare at it for a moment and chucked it across the room. He scooped up the syringe and drew another dose into it. Was it just to keep me out of commission?

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  I swore at him, but the gag muffled it too much for the insult to be understandable. My body screamed, unready for round seven when it started. I sealed my eyes closed and tensed, waiting for it to end while Ian clomped outside. The pain was so distracting that I didn’t realize someone had joined me until warm hands touched my cheeks. I jumped and sprung my eyes open to find chartreuse eyes staring back. Warmth and relief filled me and the pain started to subside. Raiden reached around to untie the gag.

  “Raiden,” I breathed. He bent to undo the leather straps around my wrists and ankles. “Ian and Gabriel are out there.”

  “I know, Peter is distracting them.” He finished the last buckle and helped me to my feet, an act that was much more difficult than it should have been. He ended up supporting most of my weight. Leaves crunched outside and we ducked into the kitchen.

  Raiden had snuck through the back door through the closet sized mud-room adjoining the kitchen. It was still cracked open so we could make a quick escape. The rack of winter boots Mom and I had left here were still covered in dried mud from last Christmas. I snatched a pair and pulled them on with a wince, the cuts and scrapes flaming anew under the bandages. But at least the fluffy interior helped warm my frozen toes, something I was grateful for when my now booted feet sunk into the mud outside.

  About thirty feet from the backdoor, the land tipped down toward a drop off. It hadn’t always been there, but an earthquake when I was nine caused a bad slide that luckily hadn’t taken the cabin with it. It had created another branch of Otter Creek which now flowed down below. I remember not even being allowed out here after it happened because Mom was afraid I might get too close to the edge and fall in.

  “You know,” Gabriel drawled, rounding the corner of the cabin. His hands were tucked casually in the pockets of his leather coat. “It occurs to me that if I want to draw the mutt out, I just have to find you. Luckily, your boy here brought you right to me.”

  He let out a chortle and the skin around his eyes wrinkled. He shrugged his coat off and started to shudder as his change started. Raiden pulled me backward to run the other way, but someone tackled Gabriel. He and Peter rolled down the hill and came to a stop amidst scuffles. They were too close to the edge.

  Raiden and I moved to help just as Peter scrambled to his feet and kneed Gabriel in the face. Gabriel wailed on the ground cupping his already bruised face from where I’d struck him earlier. Peter looked to us and waved wildly.

  “Just go! I’ve got this.”

  We hesitated. Gabriel stood and barreled into Peter, but Peter kicked Gabriel over himself as they landed on ground with a thud. Right at the edge, the ground below Gabriel shifted and fell away. He went over the side, but he had enough of a hold on Peter that he pulled him over with him.

  “Peter!” I shrieked.

  I sprinted to the edge on wobbly legs and looked into the black water below. After a pause, two heads popped up. At least Peter was far enough away from Gabriel that he was able to swim to the other side. He climbed out and disappeared into the trees, pulling off his red flannel shirt. Raiden was looking for the fastest way to get down so he could follow without diving in when I was wrenched backward by invisible arms to a waiting pair of actual arms. I shrieked in surprise.

  “No!” Raiden rushed forward to help me until something sharp pressed against my neck.

  “You. You did this.” Ian’s words were poisonous and his grip on me tightened as he and Raiden stared hard at one another. At first, I thought Ian meant the escape, but apparently not. “Everything was fine until you came here. Started corrupting her. You ruined her. Kept her from me and now it’s too late. That’s why it’s not working…”

  The anger in Raiden’s face dissipated and his eyes moved to me. Why did he look guilty? He didn’t actually believe this guy, did he?

  “Raiden, go. Make sure Peter is okay,” I said.

  “I won’t leave you here,” he argued. The knife pressed harder into my neck. Was that a trickle of blood? Judging by the flicker in Raiden’s eyes, I’d say yes.

  “Do it,” said both Ian and I.

  Raiden looked between us, indecision warring in his eyes. Finally, he veered to his left to find a way down to cross the stream. Now that we were alone, Ian eased up on the knife a little. He was breathing heavily, as if trying to control his anger.

  “My father would hate me for falling for one of you like this. If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t be hesitating. Why couldn’t you just leave this world alone? Go on with your regular life?”

  A flood of anger made my arms shake. “I am so sick of men like you telling me what to do.�
� I gripped the hand he was using to hold the knife and squeezed it tight and then stomped on his toes. There was a crunch and I jabbed my elbow into his ribs. Crack. While he inhaled desperately, distracted and in pain, I wove under the hand I was still holding and used my other hand to jam his elbow in reverse.

  He cried out and released the hunting knife into my hand but regained enough sense to throw me away with a cast of telekinesis. My back slammed against a tree and Ian held me a few inches off the ground while he gasped for breath. The pocket knife was pulled from my grip and embedded in the mud. I eyed him lividly.

  Then my feet touched the ground again. He was just as confused by this as me and tried to push me back with another wave of his hand. Nothing happened. Why wasn’t his magic working? It didn’t matter why. Fearful brown eyes met mine.

  I reached down and plucked the knife from the sodden earth and advanced on him. He straightened to meet me but his swing was too slow, hindered by his injuries and inexperience in fisticuffs since he relied on magic. I ducked under his arm and drove my fist into his jaw. He tumbled to the ground, rolling down the muddy hill a bit. He was having trouble breathing. Had I punctured a lung when I cracked his ribs?

  I marched over. At the last moment Ian swung a leg out and tripped me and rolled on top of me. I jabbed the knife up at him but underestimated his width beneath his jacket and only grazed his side when he shifted. It was enough to make him stumble back over to get away from the knife and I swiveled onto my side and kicked hard into his chest. He landed poorly in a heap, wheezing for breath. This time, he didn’t move.

  I clambered over with the knife brandished in case he tried anything again and found tears glistening from the corners of his brown eyes. Compassion and sorrow looked back at me. He reached for my face with trembling fingers.

  “I’m sorry. I…” He wavered a moment and tried to take a deep calming breath.

  I knew what he was trying to say and anger burned in my chest like a furnace. He would not be the first guy to tell me he loved me. He didn’t deserve that after everything he’d done. Whatever he felt, it wasn’t love and I hated him for thinking it was. My breathing turned shallow as my fury burned. I fell to a knee beside him and lifted the knife to sink it into his chest when a hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.

  “It’s okay, he can’t use magic,” Slade said. He gripped my shoulders and turned me to face him as he knelt to the ground. “Stokes made a dampening spell against Ian’s magic with the sample from the store.” He thought I was going to stab Ian because it looked like he was trying to use a spell…

  All of my anger wilted away and I was filled with remorse for what I’d almost done. I let the knife clatter from my grip and it made a small damp thud into the mud. I’d almost killed someone in cold blood because I didn’t want to hear him say three simple words. Exhaustion took over as my adrenaline faded and my eyelids began to droop. I lay flat on my back, melding into the cold moisture of the earth. A small sob escaped me as the stress and fear of the night sank in and I let the tears fall.

  “Adeline.” The sound of my name kept me from drifting off, but I didn’t open my eyes. They felt so raw and heavy. “You shouldn’t go to sleep,” Slade’s deep voice rumbled in concern. A hand lightly patted my cheek and I forced my lids to part. Slade’s blurry face came into focus as I blinked the tears away, his pointed, angular features scrunched in worry.

  “Slade, I…” was all I could get out, my voice groggy and thick with emotion.

  I turned my head to the side at the sound of Stokes clomping across the leaves. He muttered an incantation and snapped his fingers and a blue shimmer briefly overtook Ian’s body. A spell to subdue him? Then Stokes knelt beside me and pressed a warm hand to my forehead, muttering something else. The grogginess started to fade and Slade helped me sit up.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I nodded and dipped my head between my knees for only a moment before jerking upright. “Peter,” I breathed. I fumbled clumsily to my feet. “Raiden went to find him.”

  “I’ll go look for them,” Slade offered. “Help Agent Stokes with Ian.”

  I shook my head. “I need to look for them.”

  I snatched the filthy knife from the ground and turned on my heel before he could argue. Aside from wanting to look for the guys, I also couldn’t bear to look at Ian any longer.

  ***

  Cold water bit into Peter's skin so abruptly that it was difficult to breathe. A current held him under and he had to remind himself not to panic as he thrashed toward the surface. He and Gabriel had separated somewhere on the way down and he wasn’t sure where the cynephi was now; probably bobbing along the creek, too. Peter couldn’t waste time thinking about it.

  He swam for the opposite bank as quickly as his stunned body could manage and clutched the ground with shaking fingers. As soon as he pulled himself up, he started peeling his soaked clothing off, ignoring how his teeth chattered in protest to the chill. Gabriel could have gotten out first, and if he wasn’t making himself known, then he was changing. Peter needed to move fast. He ripped through the change, relishing in the warmth his new fur provided, and darted through the woods.

  A heavy body thrashed through the underbrush fifty yards off, heading his way. Peter’s feet pounded the earth as quickly as he could push them, just ran and ran. He had to have gone a mile when he risked a look behind him. No sign of pursuit. The ground suddenly dipped in a steep hill. For a moment Peter retained his footing. The next moment he was rolling, tumbling through mud and jagged twigs. It ended abruptly and he freefell until he collided painfully with hard pavement. The impact sent screams of agony rippling through his shoulder and hip and he felt multiple ribs crack. He decided to give himself several minutes to breathe before even attempting to stand.

  Light passed over him and it took a moment to realize they were headlights. He lifted himself to move out of the way, but the car was closer than he anticipated. The driver saw him in time to attempt a swerve, but the front bumper clipped Peter's back hip as it swung around him. A yelp escaped him, mirrored by the squeal of tires as the car came to a halt. This time, he didn’t bother trying to stand.

  “Matt, you hit a dog!!” A girl bellowed. A swath of blond hair filled Peter’s vision and a warm hand touched his side, which heaved up and down as he forced himself to breathe through the pain. “It’ll be okay,” she cooed. Above her head, he caught sight of two glowing pupils in the place where he had fallen. Peter’s heart drummed so loud he was certain Gabriel would be able to hear it.

  ***

  The rising sun did little to warm my skin or thaw my frozen bones. Fortunately, the cold went a long way to numb my tattered feet in my boots and the scrapes and bruises that scattered my body. The arm of a tree snagged the leg of my soaked, dirt-stained jeans and I snapped the stupid branch in half. A rustling of dried leaves and crunching of dead twigs just to my right sent a frazzled start through my nervous system and I lifted the blood-and-mud-smeared hunting knife toward the culprit.

  “Adeline, I—Whoa! It’s just me!” Raiden’s chartreuse eyes widened and he took a step back in surprise. His dark hair and clothes were still drenched from his swim across the creek and his cheeks, nose, and fingers were pink from the chill. His gaze fixed on the knife. “Adeline,” he whispered. “Did you…” he trailed off, not finishing his question, but I heard it anyway. Did you kill him?

  Tears burned my eyes and I clutched the handle tighter, looking away. A sick feeling twisted my gut. It wasn’t just about self-defense or protecting those close to me now. In that moment I’d wanted to do it, I’d wanted to plunge the knife into his chest. I hated the fact that maybe he’d been right. Maybe there was a monster inside me. Perhaps it just needed the right motivation to come out. More than anything, I was furious with myself for letting Ian make me feel this way.

  “I would have.” A slight tremor shook my tight voice.

  I didn’t look at Raiden and instead peered around the forest
he had been searching. The only moving shapes were the swaying branches or the scampering of small critters.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  “No,” he murmured.

  My lips trembled and my eyes welled and I pinched them together to make them stop. Not for the first time, I asked myself how things had gotten so screwed up. “They have to be somewhere.”

  We walked the forest until the sun had risen much higher and our stomachs burned with hunger and our feet and legs ached for rest. But no matter how we tried, we found no sign of either Peter or Gabriel. I told myself that was good, that it meant he was alive, but if they both were, then Gabriel would undoubtedly continue to hunt Peter. How could I leave him to that? Only when my legs were shaking too badly from exhaustion to search any longer did I comply with Raiden’s plea for me to stop.

  ***

  Two weeks had passed and we still hadn't heard from Peter. A sunken pit had formed in my stomach that made me feel sick all the time. I distracted myself by keeping busy, first with Finals and picking up more hours at work after school ended. Felicia Spinet called after the semester ended to wish me luck in the police academy in the Spring, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty. I’d nearly killed a man. Did I deserve to be a cop anymore? A well of sadness kept my chest tight, ready to be drawn upon whenever I thought about it.

  I spent my free time helping mom around the house. Nikki did, too, most days. They both knew what had happened at the cabin, though I hadn't told them all the gory details. I saw no reason for them to know, for instance, that Ian had been watching us for years. Nor would they benefit from knowing how painful the “procedure” had been. Nikki already blamed herself for being helpless to stop him from taking me. I was careful to keep the bruises and gashes covered since long sleeves and scarves were expected this time of year, anyway. As for Raiden and Slade, I hadn't seen them since that night. I thought maybe getting some distance from the whole thing would help, so I’d stayed away.